


Bacon Soup

by Nova880



Category: Batim - Fandom, Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Forgive Me, I can't write very well, My First AO3 Post, RATED T FOR BAD LANGUAGE, Then angst happens, henry goes through a lot of shit, hey look, huh, it's like sorta fun and shitposty, shitposting, then angst, well then
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 07:12:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15791574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nova880/pseuds/Nova880
Summary: In which Henry flips off most of the BATIM monsters. Rated T for swearing. Hope you enjoy!





	Bacon Soup

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Circus_Craze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Circus_Craze/gifts).



> So! Uh, my first ever fanfic! I very obviously can't write very well, and I hope you'll forgive me! This is just a little something I decided to make. It's sorta shitposty and derpy and silly in the beginning, and then... angst happens. Enjoy!

Now, Henry was not a wise man. He's made bad decisions before. Very bad decisions. However, looking back on it, this... may have been his worst yet. Sure, he's done some pretty dumb stuff, like dropping his phone in the toilet, or eating expired food he's been too lazy to check. But now, with ink running down his face, barely holding off Bendaroo, (He also had a shit memory- What was it's name again?), claws inches from his face, he's starting to regret some stuff. 

"Stuff", as in yeeting an expired can of bacon soup at Bendico. Dang it, he knew he should've thrown the gent pipe instead. Looking over Benini's shoulder, an idea came to him. Pointing, he shrieked: "SAMMY! HOWZITGOIN', INKY MAN?" At that, Bonnie's grip slackened immediately. Henry managed to twist away while Banjo looked behind him for the crazed fanboy. Running down the hall, he flipped Bandy off as the inky demonic turd looked around for the cultist. Not that he could see it, but it was the thought that counted, wasn't it? Yeah. There was a lot of thought behind it. 

* * * * * * 

Henry didn't like the lower levels much. Wading waist-high in ink just didn't appeal to him as much as it probably did to other people. There also wasn't any bacon soup on this level, clearly a major drawback. Perhaps the minor fact that an old coworker of his was no longer sentient, and trying to disembowel him in a gruesome and painful way added to it, but that was a minor problem. Now he was just searching for soup. And the hearts that The Almighty Bitch required. 

Quite suddenly, ol' Lighthead swung around the corner, it's light landing on Henry, it started forward with a screech, light flaring, until- no. No. NO. Henry BOOPED it. On the light. With his axe. Confused, the walking projector turned around and left. 

Henry flipped off its retreating back. Thought. Lot's of thought. 

* * * * * * 

With a final strike of the pipe, Franken-Boris staggered and fell. Silent tears fell down Henry's face, mixing with the ink, the ink that was everywhere, ruined everything, controlling the studio like a puppet master. Falling to his knees, he laid a gentle hand on one of the cracked ribs poking out of Boris's mangled body. Biting back a sob that threatened to rise in his throat, he remembered the falling elevator, the lost ones, ignoring his own injuries to try to get to Boris. Boris, his only friend in the studio. Boris, who'd kept him safe for a while. Boris, who he played cards with. Boris, who was probably Wally or Shawn or some other friend at some point. Boris, who he'd been too late for. Boris, who now lay, dead, at his knees, his ribcage cracked open, still clutching the bone Henry had given him in his mouth. A victim of the sick, twisted game the Angel played. The sob rose, unbidden, and spilled out into the air, as the body of his only friend in the studio decayed and melted, gone forever now, back into the ink that made it. 

There was no time for mourning, though, as a noise drew Henry's attention from the puddle of ink that used to be a good boi. Running straight towards him, arms flailing, was the Almighty Bitch herself, probably intent on killing him for ruining her game. Now, Henry was not a wise man. But he knew that if he stood up and fought, that he would have a chance against the Bitch. She drew closer, ever closer. Danger was so close, was always so close. Around every corner, something was always trying to kill him. He was just... so tired. Tears blurring his vision, he watched the Angel come close. 

Henry didn't stand up. 

* * * * * * 

As Henry was led away by Tom and Allison, he looked back at the body of the Angel, the painful tears still in his eyes blurring her features. Henry flipped off the corpse.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me at Nova-880 on Tumblr! I'm really lonely and need people to talk to :')


End file.
